


hard hats required

by KyloTrashForever



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship, Counter Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Mirror Sex, Mistaken Identity, twitter fic continuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “You weren’t wearing underwear,” he says quietly. “That day I ran into you.”Rey’s eyes seem to darken, her teeth trapping her lower lip as she looks up at him through her lashes. “I wasn’t.”“Are you—” His hands clench at his sides. “What about right now, Rey?” He takes a slow step, never tearing his eyes from hers as she watches him with something that feels like anticipation. “Are you wearing them right now?”He doesn’t miss the way her thighs seem to press together a little under her dress.“And what if I’m not?”In which Rey’s sort-of boss turns out to be the tinder guy she’s been sexting all week.A continuation of my Twitter fic:Under Construction.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 72
Kudos: 998





	hard hats required

**Author's Note:**

> here is the porn that was promised for one anal-retentive ceo and his only-matched-by-himself horny subordinate  
> 

_I’ll see you in a second?_

Ben is still trying to puzzle out Rey’s last message, thinking that perhaps she just misspoke. He’s leaned against the smooth metal of the elevator as he rides up to the fourth floor to meet the member of Poe’s crew waiting for him, texting her another question mark to no avail, finally pocketing it to wait for her reply instead. He feels terrible for dragging someone out to the site after hours like this, but he has only—he checks the clock on his phone for the dozenth time—forty minutes now until he is supposed to meet Rey at the restaurant, and there is _absolutely_ no way that he will be missing the occasion. 

He’s thought about burying his head between her thighs all fucking _week_ —and he at this point he could skip the restaurant entirely and have _her_ instead. 

Part of him is still wondering if that’s an acceptable alternative.

The doors open with a ding to let him out onto the floor, finding it seemingly empty under the lone flood lamp someone has turned on to cast some light onto the half-finished entryway. He doesn’t spot his wallet anywhere on the ground, and he turns to step down the hall towards the bathrooms, deciding to start in the last place he was.

He can hear steps on the tile inside as he reaches to press a hand on the door handle, and he pulls it away to give a soft knock instead, not wanting to surprise Poe’s crew member. He hears her answering _in here_ sound softly through the door, and he pulls it open to duck inside to find long legs and bare arms sprouting from a fitted red dress that makes his stomach do a flip—but there’s more than that because she’s familiar to him. It takes him a second to make the connection without the hard hat and the safety goggles and the frumpy, brightly colored high-res vest—but he knows exactly who she is, especially considering only hours ago he was apologizing to her for being an asshole. 

She was pretty in the gear, something he would have to be dead not to notice, but out of it, in her tight dress and her soft waves and her pink mouth that is admittedly pursed in irritation—she is fucking _mouthwatering._

Ben has to remind himself that he has a date he is very excited about. 

He clears his throat as she stares at him, crossing her arms as if waiting for him to speak. “Thanks for coming,” he tells her. “I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconven—”

“Do you know who I am?”

He rears back, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean before right now. Did you know who I was?”

“I—” he thinks he’s staring at her like a lunatic, but to be fair, she’s sort of acting like one. “I know you… from the job site? I just spoke to you today, remember? I apologized.”

“So you _really_ don’t know my name.”

“It’s…” She might be a little insane, Ben thinks. “...Tay?”

She gives him a long, even stare—her jaw working furiously as her eyes narrow. Seconds pass as she seems to wrestle with something, all the while leaving Ben nervous and confused and really beginning to think that maybe he doesn’t need the wallet after all. 

“Look,” he tries. “I’m sorry you had to come out here. I can look for it myself. If you’ll just leave the key, I’ll—”

“You’ll really didn’t know,” she marvels, expression softening.

He frowns. “Know _what?”_

She bites at her bottom lip, turning to the sink to pull her phone from a little purse she’s sat there and peering down at the screen as she taps out a message. Ben is still thinking she’s at least _half-crazy,_ but a buzzing in his pocket distracts him. He ignores it, honestly afraid to take his eyes off her at this point—but Tay nods her head towards his pocket with a now-bemused expression.

“You’d better get that,” she says evenly. 

His brow knits as he tries to make sense of her sudden mood change—whiplashing from irritated to somewhat amused in a matter of seconds. He pulls his phone from his pocket carefully, without taking his eyes off of her, holding it out to spare a glance at the screen and open the text. 

Ben stares down at the new message, trying to connect the dots in his brain. He whips up his head to stare back at this gorgeous creature who he’d been half convinced might be crazy, narrowing his eyes as he gives her a deeper perusal. 

He thinks it can see it now, as he dazedly slides his phone back into his pocket—that same slope of her jaw that he’s stared at more times than he would like to admit. There’s the same soft hair and high cheekbones—and yes, he thinks, he can see it now. Even without the sunglasses obstructing her vision he thinks now he isn’t sure how he _didn’t_ notice before.

He feels himself gaping.

“So you’re… and we… Your name is Tay?”

She shakes her head. “No. _One_ of us used their real name. You’re the one that got it wrong.”

“The buzzfeed article suggested I used a pseudonym.”

“Really? Buzzfeed?”

His brow furrows. “I told you I’d never done this before.”

She laughs a little, but it doesn’t seem mocking, somehow. It’s almost like she finds this endearing. “So what, you were just going to keep letting me call you Kylo forever? Or was that to ensure I couldn’t stalk you after you fucked me tonight?”

“What? No, I—” His mouth opens and shuts as he tries to collect his thoughts. “I just wanted to make sure you were a real person first. _Jesus_ , Rey. Sometimes you seemed too good to be real.”

The slight anger that had begun to creep back into her expression softens then, and she blinks back at him once, and then once again. 

“But you—” He purses his lips. “You didn’t correct me.”

“Would _you_ interrupt the guy spittling all over your goggles about countertops to tell him he fucked up your name?”

“I…” He presses his lips in a tight line. “Okay. Fair. But after?”

She throws up her hands. “It was awkward then.”

Ben swears under his breath, shaking his head. “What a fucking mess.”

“Right.” She reaches behind her, grabbing for the little leather wallet he hadn’t noticed resting on the countertop. “I found this, by the way.”

“Oh.” He watches her lay it back down. “Thank you.”

His mind is whirring a little with the revelation of everything he’s just learned—that the woman he’s been imagining fucking for nearly every second of this week is _real,_ that she’s been _right here_ where he could reach out and touch her, if he wanted. 

Now his mind is going to other places. 

Because her legs seem to go for days, where they sprout from beneath the hem of her almost-too-tight dress, and he knows what’s underneath it—knows the color of her nipples and even her _cunt—_ and Ben feels himself growing restless for an altogether different reason than when he walked into this bathroom.

And judging by the way Rey’s eyes seem to be lingering somewhere around the area of his mouth… he thinks that maybe he isn’t the only one. 

A thought enters his mind that threatens to ruin him. 

“You weren’t wearing underwear,” he says quietly. “That day I ran into you.”

Rey’s eyes seem to darken, her teeth trapping her lower lip as she looks up at him through her lashes. “I wasn’t.”

“Are you—” He swallows thickly, the look in her eyes making him bold, giving him those same urges that she’s set about in him _all fucking week._ His hands clench at his sides. “What about right now, Rey?” He takes a slow step, never tearing his eyes from hers as she watches him with something that feels like anticipation. “Are you wearing them right now?”

Her breath is shallow now, ringing out against the new tile and the empty room—and he doesn’t miss the way her fingers clench at the edge of the marble countertops. The way her thighs seem to press together a little under her dress. 

“And what if I’m not?” 

His blood is rushing in his ears, something that will probably ebb at any moment because he can _feel_ the effects of it rushing _south_ instead—because every photo, every filthy promise he’s made is flashing in his vision and she’s _right fucking here._

She looks up at him with hooded eyes when he’s nearly flush against her, only an inch of space between them as he struggles to keep his hands at his side. He doesn’t know the rules here, doesn’t know how much he can _take—_ but he knows he wants anything and everything she’s willing to give. 

“If you weren’t…” His eyes rake down the front of her, and he reaches, so slightly it’s almost nothing—letting his index finger trace across her thigh through the fabric of her dress in a slow back and forth, watching it go. His eyes flick up to hold her gaze, seeing the bob of her throat as she swallows. “If you weren’t, I’d ask you to open those legs for me.”

He hears her breath catch, sees her eyes widen, and for a moment he’s afraid he’s pushed too far, that somehow this isn’t as acceptable as it’s been in text. But then there’s a barely-there quirk of her mouth, and a determination in her gaze, and she moves one foot, and then the other—and now there’s a part to her legs that he can almost step between, and his cock practically _screams_ that he touch her. 

His hand dips lower, grazing down the skirt of her dress to find the hem, lingering a moment as he waits for the tiny nod she gives him in assent. His nostrils flare when his fingers touch warm skin, pressing the pads of them into the soft flesh of her thigh as he drags them higher. He’s so close he can almost feel the heat of her cunt, and he knows just another inch and he’ll be there, that he’ll _feel_ her. 

He holds her gaze as he tilts his hand just a little, his fingertips grazing the wet seam of her, because there is _nothing_ barring his touch. Every breath comes harder and harder with every second that passes, his slacks tenting rapidly with the weight of his cock that begs to be released. 

She’s so fucking _wet._

“Little rule breaker,” he breathes, running his fingers through her slit as she gives something like a whimper. “Did you plan to torture me with this at dinner? Did you plan to drive me crazy?”

There’s an imprint in her lip with the way she’s still biting at it, and Ben finds he _desperately_ wants to do that himself. But that fire is still in her eyes, and the way she nods—boldly, without any sort of hesitation or pretense—it threatens to drive him just a little bit _insane._

He finds the slick little hole of her entrance, dipping the tip of his middle finger inside, and her mouth parts in quiet surprise, sucking in a breath when he lets the heel of his hand grind against her clit. 

“You’re so tight here,” he murmurs, pushing his finger a little deeper against the resistant stretch of her. “Have you been thinking about my cock here?” Her lashes flutter as she nods again, but he finds he needs more. “Tell me,” he rasps, his finger sliding deep to the knuckle. “I want to hear you say it.”

Her eyes drift open lazily as she tilts her hips in search of more. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she answers breathily. “Your cock.”

He twists his finger to make her gasp. “Where have you been thinking about it?”

“In my—” Her breath catches when he lets his finger slide out only to push it back inside roughly. “Inside me,” she manages. “I want it inside.”

He’s looking at her mouth now, realizing that he’s up to the knuckle inside her and has yet to taste it yet. Somehow he thinks he can’t stand for that. 

He leans in close, flicking up his eyes to meet hers and finding her permission, _wanting_ whatever he gives her as well, it seems, and his lids grow hooded as he brushes his lips against hers. They’re warm and soft just like she is, and just as welcoming as they part to allow his tongue to slip inside. It slides against hers heavily as he pushes closer—her legs spreading wider and her limbs trembling against him as she struggles to keep herself up. 

He breaks away reluctantly, looking down between them to watch his hand moving between her legs even as he curses the obstruction of her skirt that prevents him from seeing the way she stretches just from this. 

He’s surprised when her hands leave the countertop to cup his jaw, jerking his face back up to take another slow kiss that makes his chest hot. She’s breathing hard when she pulls away, a little smile at her mouth that makes every muscle in his body tense up in anticipation.

“You know, I like your face just fine,” she murmurs quietly, her fingers sliding over his cheeks to brush against his ears, making him shudder. “You weren’t lying about the ears though.”

Her grin widens, and he huffs out a laugh as he lets his free hand curl around her hip, leaning in close until his lips graze against the sensitive skin below her ear. “I wasn’t lying about everything else, either.”

He feels her shiver in his hold, hears her inhale sharply as he lets he mouths lightly at the delicate line of her throat. 

“You could still be catfishing me,” she says quietly, her hands finding his ribs and her fingers clinging to the fabric there. “I can’t know for sure unless I check.” 

His breath huffs against her throat, his pelvis tilting to trap her hand between her legs and allowing the hard length of him to rest somewhere under her navel. “If you want my cock, sweetheart… you just have to say so.”

She lets her head lean back a bit to bare more of her throat, but her fingers are gliding lower, over his shirt to catch at the hem of his dark jeans. It takes her a moment to undo his button, and another to get the zipper down—made more difficult, he thinks, by the efforts of his tongue and teeth teasing at her neck, by the way his hand is still buried between her legs. His finger slides out only to add another, stretching her, getting her _ready._

He groans into her skin when she manages to get her little fingers inside the denim and under his boxer-briefs—managing to fist him in one hot little hand as the other works frantically to shove down his jeans to free him more. They’re too close to touch each other the way either of them would probably like, making dips too shallow and grips too light—but he can’t seem to pull himself away from her, too focused on the way she tastes, on the quiet sounds she makes when his tongue finds _just_ the right spot at her throat. 

“Fuck, Ky— _Ben_ —you’re so—”

“ _Hard,”_ he grinds out. “So fucking hard for you. I have been _all week.”_

Her voice is airy and light, seeming to almost caress his skin and make it pebble. “You have?”

“You know I have,” he tells her roughly. “I’ve been thinking about your pretty little cunt and all the things I wanted to do with it. All the ways I wanted to make a mess of you.” 

“God, your texts have been…” She whimpers a little when he grinds his fingers deep inside, and he chokes out a moan when it causes her to squeeze him tighter. “But _hearing_ it—”

He lifts his head to slant his lips at her jaw, nipping her there before he finds her mouth to let his tongue dip inside briefly. “You like hearing what you do to me?” He withdraws his fingers slowly, spreading the slickness there until he’s circling the little bud of her clit to make her thighs press tight at his hips, nowhere else to go. “You like hearing how badly I wanted to fuck you?”

She gives his cock a stuttered stroke as she seemingly tries to maintain her focus, nodding heavily as her lashes flutter closed. 

“Good,” he says. “Because I think we’ve both had enough of just wanting.” He slips his hand out from between her legs, and she makes a needy sound from its loss before he shushes her softly. “Turn around,” he tells her. “Put your hands on the counter.”

She shifts her weight until she’s resting on her flats, quickly shuffling out of them to kick them away before she slowly, _tortuously_ gives him her back. Ben peers back at her reflection in the mirror, reaching to pull her hair away from her shoulder and press a kiss there. 

“This isn’t how I planned this,” he rasps, his hand sliding over her waist to curl over her belly on the other side. “But you’re everything I thought you’d be, you’re _more—_ and I can’t go another second without fucking you.” He presses against her belly to force her ass against his cock that is hard and needy between them, letting his other find one strap of her dress to slide it down her shoulder slowly. “Is that what you want, Rey?”

She watches as he releases the strap to let it hang loosely over her arm, reaching to repeat the process with the other side. “Here?”

“Here is as good as any,” he murmurs. “For the first time.” He catches her eyes in the mirror. “It won’t be the last.”

She bites at her bottom lip as he reaches up the front of her to tug at her neckline, able to pull it just enough so that he can free a nipple. Her eyes close when he slides his fingers against it to give her a light pinch, her hips pressing back against his cock anxiously. 

“It won’t?”

He’s already sliding up the fabric of her dress with his other hand, watching more and more of her tanned skin come into view. “Not if I can help it.” He bunches her skirt in his fist until he can feel the smooth curve of her perfect ass against his cock, thrusting lightly against her with a low groan. “Not by a long shot.”

Her smile turns sly as she finds his eyes in the mirror, leaning forward a fraction and wiggling her hips teasingly as her hands slide out over the countertops in a showy motion. “Are you sure you want to do this here?” She gives the marble a light pat. “I know how you feel about these countertops,” she hums coyly. “I would hate to do anything that might make a mess of them.”

He palms her ass to give it a rough squeeze, his cock slotting in the cleft of her ass to leave a sticky trail of his precum as he tries to ease some of the ache there. “Such a smart mouth,” he huffs. “The only thing”—he curls to let his front press against her back, bringing his mouth close to her ear—“that I will be making a mess of”—he nips at the soft lobe of her ear, enjoying the little whimper that escapes her—“is _you._ ”

Both of his hands have found their way to her hips, his grip tight as his eyes dart to his wallet still resting inches away on the counter. He gives her a pointed look in the mirror, bringing one hand to her back to press at her spine, forcing her to curl further over the counter and holding her there. 

“Don’t move.”

Her mouth opens like she might say something, the words dying on her tongue when she sees him reaching for his wallet to fish out the little foil wrapper. She follows the reflection of his hand as he brings it to his mouth, her eyes widening a little as he tears it open with his teeth. He keeps one hand on her hip as he uses the other to roll the condom down over his cock, flicking his gaze briefly to the perfect swell of her ass as he imagines sinking into her. As he imagines that warm wet of her inside wrapped around every inch of him.

“It’s a good thing you found it,” he manages in a voice that sounds too low and too rough to be his.

He squeezes at the base of his cock when he has the condom firmly in place, all the while watching the way she watches him, noting the way her breath grows ragged, the way her skin flushes with heat, the way her eyes grow dark and _wide_ with anticipation.

He brings both hands to her hips, dipping his own so that he can push the head of his cock through her folds to slide through to the other side. “If you hadn’t,” he goes on, giving long, slow thrusts between her legs that makes her whimper. “I wouldn’t be able”—he draws back to let the the head of his cock catch at her entrance, watching her mouth part as her head falls back slightly—“to do _this.”_

Her head lolls forward when he starts to press inside, but he doesn’t see beyond that—not with the way his eyes close, with the way a deep groan escapes him as he sinks inside. She’s hot and wet and _so tight—_ pushing into her almost a _chore_ with the way she fits so snugly around him. He slides a hand up her spine to take her dress with it, his eyes drifting open to take in the sight of her body opening up to take him. He can see the way she’s stretched around him, can feel the way her skin trembles under his hands, and when he looks up in the mirror, catching her gaze there—he finds her looking back at him, her eyes reflecting all the pent-up _need_ that he’s been carrying _all week._

His breath is ragged by the time his hips are flush with her skin, every inch of him buried deep inside even as he somehow wishes he could go deeper still. His mouth is slack when he draws out slowly, watching every facet of her expression as she grips and _pleads_ for him to stay. It’s written all over her face, how much she’s enjoying it, how much she _wants_ this—only fueling Ben, making him want _more._

“ _Fuck,_ Rey. The way you feel—” He reaches to curl his hand around to tug at her thigh, forcing her legs further apart as he drives back into her with a shudder. “If I’d known”—he sets a building rhythm, a slow slide before a deep plunge—“that you were _right there”—_ his head lolls a little as her inner muscles contract around him—“I would have fucked you on _every_ surface inside this building.”

Her hands claw at nothing, unable to find purchase against the smooth marble, flexing her hips to meet each thrust as the sound of their skin clapping together fills the space. 

“ _Harder,”_ she whines. “ _God.”_

“You want more?” He snaps his hips into her to jolt her entire body. “Greedy thing.”

He winds his arm around her waist until his fingers meet the slick crease of her, lingering for a moment to feel the way his cock fills her before he drags them higher to circle at her clit. The effect is immediate, her cunt fluttering around him and her inhalation sharp and loud—and Ben rolls his fingers a little faster until her legs begin to shake. 

It’s hard to maintain a rhythm when he keeps getting distracted by how fucking _hot_ she is inside—following a blind instinct of _in and out_ and _in and out—_ each thrust coming a little bit faster as he chases after that warm pressure building. Her hand reaches out to brace against the mirror, leaving a smeared print that only worsens with the way she struggles to keep herself level. 

She’s pushing up on her toes to try and lift herself, trying to meet his thrusts and whimpering when she can’t _quite_ push against him the way she wants to. Ben hears her frustration in the sounds that fall from her mouth and sees it in the way she _tenses,_ and Ben—Ben realizes dazedly that this is an easy fix.

He pulls out of her abruptly, a whimpered protest tearing out of her throat just to die on her lips as he pulls her up and spins her, lifting her with ease to sit her on the counter. Her legs fall apart to allow him to settle between them, but for a moment he forgets his intentions, distracted by her mouth that begs for him to taste it. 

Her lashes flutter closed when he pulls her in close to press a kiss there, her hands smoothing over his chest to curl at his shoulders as he draws back just a tiny bit. 

“Wanna see it,” he tells her hoarsely, reaching to run a knuckle through her folds as she shudders with it. “When you come.”

Her eyes are hooded and dreamy and soft like the rest of her—but there’s a dazed smile at her mouth as she gives a little wiggle atop the marble.

“You’re going to make a mess like this,” she simpers. “Going to ruin your poor, precious countert— _Fuck.”_

Her words die on her tongue when he slides into her in one fluid movement—rooting inside her to the hilt as her thighs press against his hips. “What were you saying?” His lips brush against hers to catch her shaky exhale. “Hm?”

“Asshole,” she breathes, her fingers tugging at his hair taking the sting from her barb. “If you don’t mind the mess, then I don’t. I mean _I’m_ not the one who’s uptight about vanity surfaces. I mean who gets anal-retentive over—”

His finger dig into the soft flesh of her thighs, his mouth slanting across hers heavily if only to shut her up for a moment so that he can shift his hips to give a little thrust into her. He follows after with another, and then _another—_ chasing that rhythm he lost when he changed positions. 

“Anal-retentive,” he laughs hoarsely, nipping at her lower lip. “You’re giving me ideas.”

“You’re going to have to— _fuck, yes, there—definitely_ buy me dinner first.”

Her smile dissipates when his hand snakes between them, a breathy sound tumbling past her lips when his fingers spread over her navel to let his thumb dip down and tease her clit. Her little fingers curl at his nape, tugging him closer as he rolls into her, stoking that fire that had been building as he purposefully rubs at the swollen bud of her clit. 

He only breaks away when it feels like he can’t breathe, when his chest rises and falls heavily with effort—resting his forehead against her shoulder to watch as her little cunt takes what he gives it. Watching his cock fill her again and again and _again._

Her arm loops around his neck as she struggles to hold on, her legs wrapped around his waist as he drives into her. His hand shakes against her belly as his thumb circles her clit unsteadily, mouthing messily at the bend of her shoulder as he feels that pressure building again, threatening to burst.

“Are you— _fuck—_ are you close?”

“Just a”—her breath washes against his cheek as her lips graze there after—“little”—he can feel the bite of her nails through his shirt—“ _more.”_ Her arm shakes and her cunt clenches and she’s wet, _so wet—_ the sound of it nearly deafening in the clean, tiled space. “Oh shit. Right there. _Right there._ ”

She’s holding him so tight that it’s nearly hard to push inside her now, but he doesn’t stop his thumb sliding against her clit. Doesn’t stop the way he dips into her at a stuttered pace. He closes his eyes, his limbs half-shaking with effort—but he doesn’t fucking _stop._

He can’t be sure how long he lasts, after he feels her walls trembling around him, as she breathily sighs his name with her release as he continues to push inside—can’t be sure whether it’s seconds or minutes or longer than that even—he only knows that she’s boneless and warm and _wet_ when he finally lets go, his cock twitching inside her and his muscles tensing everywhere else because he’s never come so hard in his _life._

He’s struggling to catch his breath after, his broken exhales washing against the bare skin at her shoulder, and he faintly registers that her fingers are carding through his hair idly. It brings him back down from the high of it, turning up his face to take in her sated expression, kissing away the smile at her mouth before it even has time to spread. 

He’s laughing a little when he breaks away, shaking his head at her look of question. “I can’t believe I called you _Tay.”_

“I can’t believe I thought you were hot when you yelled at me,” she laughs.

“You did?”

“My friend gave me proper shit about it, I assure you.”

He looks down between them, groaning a little as he shifts his hips. “This is definitely not how I pictured tonight going.”

“You know, I’m not mad at it.” She shrugs lightly. “It’s like I got my revenge on these stupid fucking countertops.”

“Do you think I’ll ever hear the end of that?”

“Not if you plan to stick around, no.”

His lips curl in a barely-there smile. “So no, then.”

Her answering smile is brilliant, and even though he’s still very much inside her, the moment makes him feel warm in his chest. He lets his lips brush over hers a final time, wincing as he pulls out of her—unable to resist looking down to steal a glance between her thighs where she is pink and slick—evidence of everything they’ve done. Enough to make him want to do it all over again. 

He helps her down from the marble to set her on her feet, tucking himself back into his jeans as he moves off to find her shoes. She slips back into them quietly after adjusting her dress, and if it weren’t for the slight flush of her chest, the redness at her mouth—one might not even know that he just fucked her on a bathroom counter in the building he’ll have to be every single day in just a few short months. 

“You know,” he says quietly, pulling out his phone to check the time. “We could still make dinner if we hurry.”

Her lips purse as she thinks about it. “Really? Do you want to?”

“I—” He doesn’t, not really, what he _wants_ is to drag her back to his apartment and do _exactly_ what they just did until the sun comes up, but he knows that’s most likely not her preference. “We can go to dinner.”

Her brow furrows, arms crossing as she chews the inside of her lip. “You know… I bet there’s food at your place.”

It takes him a second to catch her meaning, probably a second longer than it should, but when it does: “There is,” he says quickly. “There’s all kinds of food.”

“And I just bet you’d make me something, considering the way you acted on more than one occasion this week.”

“I could do that.” Her smile is sly like she’s teasing, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own. “After.”

Her gaze warms at the implication, stepping closer to toy with the collar of his button-down as if straightening it. “Then I guess you’ve got a lot of promises to make good on.”

“Trust me.” He loops an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. “I plan to follow through with every _single_ one.”

She leans in to leave a barely-there kiss at his mouth, giving a little soft hum in her throat. “Then lead the way, boss man.”

Ben isn’t sure what he expected when he matched with Rey. Doesn’t quite know what he thought might come from this hellish week of sexual frustration that left him feeling like a teenager again—but it was worth it, he thinks. He follows after this beautiful creature in red who he never saw coming, keeping close behind as he lets his mind wander to all the things he wants to do to her before the morning, and hopefully on several other occasions in the near future—even _if_ she never lets the damn countertops fiasco go.

_Worth it,_ he thinks.

Ben thinks it’s worth every second.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be epilogues back on the main thread on Twitter! ❤️ I hope everyone is as satisfied as Rey after having had to wait until Friday. 😙  
> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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